


How to Charm People and Kill Things

by sisirongana (anagnorisis)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-29
Updated: 2011-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9037394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anagnorisis/pseuds/sisirongana
Summary: Adrian Hawke has it all down pat, and Tallis just has to watch and learn. Spoilers for Mark of the Assassin DLC. One-shot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally published 2011 on fanfiction.net and migrated to AO3 in 2016.

 

From the beginning, she finds Adrian Hawke intriguing. Tallis wonders if it's the impossibly black hair, the slate gray eyes, the imposing figure she cuts in her armor, or maybe the strong sense of pride and nobility she practically radiates.

Or maybe, Tallis thinks, watching the Champion of Kirkwall bend over, it's just her fantastic ass.

Sculpted features mold into a grimace as Hawke crouches down with a grunt. "You know, hunting? It's not really my thing." She plugs her nose with one hand and cautiously…rummages…with the other.

"Are you saying that only because you're elbow-deep in wyvern shit?" Tallis wonders, amused.

Hawke removes the hand covered in the rather unpleasant stuff, and scowls. "That would be one of the reasons, yes."

Aveline sighs. "Well. That's…fragrant, isn't it."

"It's probably like roses and sunshine to you, big girl," Isabela says, inching away. "But I think I'll be staying upwind from now on."

"If only one could be upwind from…oneself," Hawke mumbles, practically pouting.

"And here I thought nobility was all about hunting as a sport," Tallis teases. "As well as horrible Orelsian fashion and awful cheeses. Not a very good noble, are you, Hawke?"

Hawke frowns as she bends down to scrub her hands in the nearby stream. "Yes, well. As you can see, between this and the dinner parties…it's a lot of unnecessary wading around in shit."

That coaxes a laugh out of her. Maybe it's just her wit, Tallis thinks, until her eyes drift lower – okay, and maybe a lot of it is still her ass too.

.

.

.

Maybe she's fascinated by Hawke because she can't figure her out – even the way Hawke interacts with people she's known far longer than she's known Tallis is oddly complex.

"Oh, stop," Tallis hears Isabela whisper flirtatiously. "You're such a tease."

Blue-green eyes watch as the Champion easily evades Isabela's oncoming swat on the rear, then grabs the pirate's offending hand and uses it to tug her closer. Kissing-distance type closer.

"Oh," Tallis mutters, almost to herself. Maybe one little puzzle piece has clicked into place. A disappointing piece of the puzzle, really – Hawke did look like she'd be a fantastic kisser, and Tallis had hoped…oh, well.

Aveline must think she's muttering out of disgust and not jealousy (not that she's actually totally  _jealous_  or anything, Tallis amends quickly) because she speaks out with utter disdain in hopes to commiserate.

"Yes, they're like that sometimes," Aveline grumbles. "It's rather juvenile, if you ask me."

"So…they're together?" Tallis asks, tone far too casual.

"Oh, Maker. I don't even know what they are besides rabid sex maniacs and bloodthirsty hedonists," Aveline complains. "One second it seems as though neither of them could give a rat's ass about what the other does, the next, I hear news about the Champion of Kirkwall starting a bar brawl because someone looked at Isabela the wrong way," Aveline sighs. "It's…complicated."

Hawke's face is an inch from Isabela's as she leans down closer, presumably to give her a mind-blowing kiss, what with the way Isabela closes her eyes in anticipation. Right when their lips are about to brush, however, Hawke merely grins and ducks, yanking down Isabela's headscarf down over her eyes and scrambling away like an impish child. The sound of Hawke's teasing laughter drowns out Isabela's indignant squawk.

"Yes, complicated…" Tallis murmurs, amused but still a little puzzled. "It appears to be."

.

.

.

Travelling with Hawke also proves to be educational.

For one thing, Tallis learns that for a rogue, she sometimes isn't as sneaky as she thinks.

"So…this 'Heart of the Many'," she vaguely hears Isabela begin, "Is it shiny?"

"Very," Tallis confirms; it isn't a lie, really. The jewel she's going to pretend is the Heart of the Many is rather shiny.

"Shinier than your daggers?"

"Much," she responds absently, a little distracted as she watches Hawke brush something off her chestplate and observes the way Hawke's long, tapered fingers seem to linger over her breasts in tantalizing slow motion…

"Shinier than Hawke's breastplate?"

"Yeah…"

"The one that just fits her form so nicely, all curvy and—"

"Practically skintight, really," Tallis mumbles dreamily. She splutters immediately once Isabela bursts into laughter.

"I'll say," the pirate agrees, grinning.

Tallis is horrified. "I…I—didn't-"

"Mean to ogle my lover?" Isabela questions, then chuckles. "Relax, sweetness. I do it all the time, and it's  _always_  on purpose. Trust me."

"…oh." Tallis feels like melting into the ground, possibly for forever, especially when Hawke's voice breaks the silence.

"If you two are done objectifying me, I'd like to get back to the mission?" Hawke interrupts, voice light and amused. Isabela just laughs and Tallis turns impossibly redder.

"Word of advice, sugar," Isabela leers, blatantly ignoring her lover's protest as her eyes drift towards the Champion's backside. "It's all right to be naughty. Just don't get caught."

The tips of her pointy ears burn brighter, and as Tallis wonders if it's possible to die of embarrassment, she also thinks that yes, she needs to work on this being sneaky thing some more.

.

.

.

Then Tallis learns that she tends to make assumptions about people far too easily.

When she heard tales of the Champion, the ones that spoke of her prowess in battle (and in bed, if the seedy tavern talk was any indication), her beauty, and her wit, Tallis easily conjured up an image of Hawke. The Hawke she had in mind was a strange mixture of a bloodthirsty soldier, a muddy Fereldan, a spoiled noble, and maybe even just a bit of a cad.

Some of these things are partially true, Tallis notes, but within a day of meeting Hawke, Tallis realizes she's nothing like she seems.

"You…you let him go?" Tallis asks incredulously. The bratty Orlesian noble Hawke thoroughly trounced scrambles away with his tail between his legs, grumbling about the Champion being a stealer of wyvern kills.

Gleefully, Hawke waggles her fingers in goodbye to the retreating men. "Do write sometime, won't you?" she calls out, delighting in the answering curse word from the noble.

"That was very merciful," Tallis notes.

"That's Hawke," Isabela says, begrudging and affectionate. "'Merciful.'"

Tallis expects more of Hawke's witty rejoinders, but the Champion of Kirkwall just  _sticks_ _her_ _tongue_ _out_  at Isabela, and Tallis goes from being slightly in awe to drowning in it.

Yes, Adrian Hawke is nothing like the stories say, except for the parts where they say she's gorgeous and really good at killing things. No one ever told her the Champion was a total goofball. There is something about Hawke that makes Tallis understand why the Arishok would consider her basalit-an, why people respect her so much.

But then, when Hawke does something like talk in a horrific, exaggerated Orlesian accent for an hour  _just_ _for_ _fun_  behind the other nobles' backs and then sticks her tongue out as a legitimate way of arguing…well, that part's a bit off-putting. She's pretty sure the Arishok would disapprove.

"We'd better head back to Chateau Haine," the elf mutters, still befuddled. "You can practice your table manners," she says, giving a pointed but amused look towards Hawke.

The Champion looks innocent. "And my Orlesian accent!" she adds with flourish, and Tallis can't help but giggle at the absurdity of everything as well as be a little afraid of that fluttering feeling in her chest.

All she can do now, she muses, is hope it doesn't get worse.

.

.

.

It gets worse.

Tallis is beginning to sense a pattern here.

.

.

.

Tallis stares a little, cheeks red. "Well…you sure do clean up nicely without all that armor," she says to the immaculately dressed Hawke. "I didn't know the Champion of Kirkwall was such a good dresser."

"You should see how good she is at undressing," Isabela chimes in helpfully, shrugging when Aveline gives a disapproving snort.

Tallis coughs a little when the Champion shoots her a mischievous grin. "That's not something I offer to just anyone, Isabela. You know that."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll make her work for it," the pirate chuckles. "Took me practically years to wear her down," Isabela says conspiratorially to Tallis. "She's quite stubborn."

"I prefer 'determined,' as Varric puts it," Hawke retorts, tone lofty. "And besides," she says in a teasing voice, "what if it was just you, Isabela? I'm sure if Tallis put her mind to it, I wouldn't need much convincing." The way Hawke grins is simultaneously terrifying and seductive.

Tallis remains confused. "Um."

Hawke merely winks at her.

"Oh-ho," chortles Isabela, hardly insulted. "Now  _that_  I'd pay to see." Hawke just snorts. "No, really," Isabela intones, face the epitome of seriousness. "I'd legitimately pay to watch."

"Er," is all Tallis has to say.

Aveline glares at the pirate. "You're fine with…" she gestures wildly between Hawke and Tallis. "…all this?"

Isabela just blinks.

"Of course," Aveline grumbles. "Who am I kidding? You're more than fine."

"How nice of you to notice," Isabela says, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Uh," Tallis squeaks.

"Something on your mind, Tallis?" Hawke asks, head tilted.

"We…should probably move along… with the plan…and stuff," she mumbles lamely.

"Oh, so we have one?" Aveline says. "What a nice change from our usual way of doing things."

"I make plans," Hawke argues with a pout.

Aveline narrows her eyes, and Hawke shrinks back a little.

"Well, I do! I just never follow through with them. Big difference."

Aveline just sighs.

.

.

.

Tallis feels an uncomfortable combination of frustration and nervousness. Just because she said she had a plan, didn't mean that it was for sure going to work. And within seconds from walking out that corridor, she knows that Hawke can tell that the plan is very distinctly not working. The furrow in Hawke's brows is a little nerve-wracking.

"Let me guess," Hawke ventures. "He doesn't have it."

"I'm usually so much better at this!" Tallis blurts in protest.

"See? Where's Aveline?  _This_ is why I don't like plans. They never work out. I should just assume they're going to fail at the start."

"It's not failing," Tallis says. "It's just…not exactly cooperating with reality."

"You should be a politician," Hawke says, and it's not exactly a compliment. "Nonetheless…what was his excuse?"

"He 'forgot' that he gave it to one of the servants."

"Ah yes. I do that all the time," comes the dry response. "Well. Off we go then. There should only be one servant for every cheese plate here," she grumbles.

Tallis pats her on the shoulder. "Look on the bright side, if this all fails, you could make it as an accomplished thespian. The dropping to your knees and clutching at your 'bee-stung' hand was brilliant, by the way," offers Tallis.

"It was, wasn't it?" Hawke preens a little.

The way Hawke smiles at her is so warm and genuine and friendly that Tallis falters a little, hates that she's tricking someone like Hawke. Even though she knows it's for a good enough cause, she still feels a little guilty, something she apparently can't hide.

"Is there a problem?" asks Hawke, smile fading.

"Not at all. Except that I think you missed that Caprice over there," Tallis says, pointing at a nearby bench.

"Ooh, shiny," Hawke says, darting for it like a child that's spotted candy. Tallis is almost thankful for Hawke's limited attention span and affinity for all things sparkly in the sunlight. "Good eye. Missing that one would have been a  _real_  problem," she grins, bad mood completely dissipated. "Now," she says, rubbing her hands together eagerly. "Let's go find that needle in a haystack."

.

.

.

It takes some time and more dramatic flair from Hawke, but eventually they find the servant whose cheese tastes like despair and whose pockets  _formerly_  held the key.

"The Duke's son, Lord Cyril, has it," Tallis announces to Hawke before cornering aforementioned duke's son in a secluded part of the courtyard. Two seconds later, she's out, empty-handed and frustrated. "You try," she demands, shoving Hawke towards the door. To think, he asked her to take out the trash…!

It takes about five minutes of Tallis standing outside the tower impatiently tapping her foot (take out the trash, really?); Hawke emerges with a scowl but something in her hand, nonetheless.

"You got it? You got the key?" Tallis whispers.

"Was there ever any doubt?" Hawke suddenly smirks, but then her face melts back into an expression of disgust as she smacks her lips. "Ugh. This had better be worth it, Tallis. I practically nibbled on that bastard's ear for this."

"Uh, that's disgusting," Tallis says, surely not thinking of what it'd be like if Hawke nibbled on  _her_ ear.

"I know. I was there," Hawke retorts dryly, before dangling the key in front of the elf. "Here."

Tallis's fingertips tingle when they touch Hawke's. "I really do appreciate this, you know."

Hawke shrugs. "I know. But you owe me. Apparently the cheese isn't the only thing that tastes like despair here, you know."

"I'll think of some way to repay you," Tallis says absently as they head towards the castle doors. She notices Hawke's smirk and turns red instantly. "I didn't mean like that!"

"Like what?" Hawke feigns innocence. "I was thinking of all the sweets you could buy me. What were  _you_  thinking of, Tallis?"

"N-nothing," she hisses and ignores Hawke's chuckle.

.

.

.

Tallis is musing about how nice it is to spend time with Hawke (especially since it involves a lot of whispering and closeness in the shadows as they sneak around) when she suddenly finds herself pushed a little behind the Champion with the other woman standing protectively in front of her.

That part is nice: she feels warm and safe and utterly charmed by Hawke's protectiveness although she is very capable of taking care of herself, and it's a little too damsel-in-distress-y for her tastes.

The other part isn't so nice: there are tons of guards with pointy crossbows and equally pointy arrows, and Duke Prosper there with handcuffs; Tallis knows instantly that she and Hawke are going to be spending quite a bit more time with each other, albeit not quite in the manner she'd hoped.

There is a lot of dramatic revelation, glaring, and shouting, and then in a sort of anti-climax, they're dragged off into a dank, ugly cell.

This part is the least nice. Tallis's shoes squelch on the moldy stones.

"Are you angry with me?" Tallis asks, afraid of the answer but more disturbed by Hawke's deepening glower.

"Yes…no," Hawke frowns, looking confused for a moment. "Nes," she concludes firmly.

"That isn't a word," Tallis points out.

Hawke scowls. "Yes, well, Heart of the Many isn't a fancy jewel, so…."

"Got me there," Tallis admits, even though apparently when the Champion is upset, she has the logic of a child. Those gray eyes that are usually so attractive are quite terrifying when they're pinned on her like this. "Listen, Hawke, I really am sorry. I didn't mean for things to turn out like this."

"Maker, if I had a sovereign for every time I heard that…" Hawke mutters.

"You'd be rich?" Tallis hazards a playful guess.

"No," Hawke deadpans. "I'd have approximately five sovereigns and maybe a few coppers, assuming we're doing fractions. Which we're not because I'm terrible at arithmetic." She keeps her face to the wall, determinedly not looking at Tallis. "See this not-fun version of me? This is what happens when I'm lied to. Everything gets far less fun."

Tallis sighs. "Okay, yes, I did mean to lie to you. I had to get some way to get to this party and you were the only one who could do it. And…and you're the first person a Qunari should go to when in trouble. But this wasn't supposed to turn out like this. I just needed you to get into the party and then we would hopefully and uneventfully part ways."

"Use me and lose me, hmm? Did I just fall off the Fereldan turnip cart then?"

Tallis sighs again, frustrated. "It isn't like that. And what is it with Fereldans and turnips anyway?" Hawke just glares. "Okay, so not the time. Um…"

Then Hawke actually looks  _hurt_  and Tallis feels worse. "I thought we were friends, Tallis."

"We are! I just...you…"

"You just failed to mention that I'm what drove you and your people out of Kirkwall and that you were just using me like a whore – not to mention it wasn't even the good kind of using me!" Hawke rants. "I mean, look, I get the assassin thing.  _That_ wasn't a surprise considering to be my friend you have to meet a certain crazy and/or weird quota. But all this Qunari stuff, all this weird elaborate lying…Maker," she huffs, shaking her head. "What  _is_ it with pretty women, Qunari, and weird elaborate lies?" she rambles. "I mean, first Isabela, then you. Is it the latest fashion?"

"Did you mean what you said before?" Tallis interjects quietly, trying not to think about using Hawke  _that_ way and the fact that Hawke thinks she's pretty.

Hawke glares, still pouting like a child. "About Cyril's ear tasting like despair? Yes."

Sighing, Tallis inches closer to Hawke on the moldy bench. "I mean…what you said to the Duke. When you found out who…and what…I really am."

Hawke tugs uncomfortably at the tight collar of her shirt. "That was before I realized I wasn't getting something nice and shiny out of all this, not to mention before all that awful betrayal stuff," Hawke grumbles. She sighs at Tallis's wounded look and looks a little apologetic. "Look. I would've extolled all of your virtues and general awesomeness, but I didn't want to be rude."

Tallis smiles a little. "Yes, because that would've been the worst part of the night."

"Including or excluding the wyvern shit? Or the fact that we're locked up in a cell, presumably to get eaten by a giant bratty wyvern and ironically, eventually become wyvern shit ourselves?"

"Yes." Tallis just takes a deep breath and reaches over to put her hand on top of Hawke's, looking at her with the utmost seriousness. "Hawke…I know I don't deserve your trust. But whatever you saw in me to make you say that stuff to the Duke…it's still there. I promise."

The look in Hawke's eyes is inscrutable for a moment, then her expression softens. "Well," she murmurs, her hand flipping over and squeezing Tallis's just for a split second. "In that case," she says softly, "I guess I'll just have extra time to work on my knitting then, won't I?" she smiles, and just like that, it's like all is forgiven and the storm cloud passes from her face.

"Knit me a sweater?" Tallis asks hopefully.

"Like I'd give a beautiful woman a reason to put  _more_  clothes on," Hawke teases, laughing as Tallis blushes. "Besides, despite how good I am with a sword, I'm absolute shit when it comes to knitting."

.

.

.

Apparently Tallis isn't the only one learning new things, because it takes a few hours before Hawke says, "Hey, you're a rogue," like it's brand new information.

"You…just now got that part?" Tallis asks.

"No, I mean, why don't you just pick the lock yourself?"

Tallis does, quite easily in fact, and Hawke just stares. "What?" Tallis asks. "You said your friends were coming!"

"You know," Hawke says, leaping to her feet and shoving open the door to their cell, "If Isabela were here, she'd insist that you get a spanking."

Tallis tries not to think too much about that.

They round the corner, and suddenly, Isabela and Aveline are there, equally out of breath. "Hawke, you're all right," Isabela says, visibly relieved. "Of course you're all right," she adds, tone a mixture of pride and affection.

Aveline gives Hawke a brief smile. "Come on, let's get going."

"Wait," Isabela says, looking serious. "I could've sworn I heard Hawke say something about a spanking…"

.

.

.

It takes awhile, but Tallis is always true to her word. "See?" she asks brightly. "I told you I had a plan. A good one. That had an escape and everything!"

"That's  _after_  Butterfingers over here shatters a phylactery," Isabela grouses, "and we have to kill a giant already-dead thing again."

" _And_  after an inanimate object calls you a whore," Aveline shoots back.

"Aveline," Hawke chastises. "You know that that statue called her a 'ho', not 'whore', and it eventually turned out to be a real person. Not a bright one, but real."

"Nonetheless," Tallis concludes, interrupting, "You're home free. You  _could_ go…"

"Or," Hawke prompts.

"Or you have other options."

Hawke grins, her voice teasing. "Coming on a bit strong, are you? I was only teasing about the spanking bit. Well, kind of."

"I knew it!" Isabela blurts, triumphant.

"But we've been through so much together," Tallis protests. "Sneaking through castles, making daring escapes from prison…"

"And those equally sexy parts of digging through wyvern shit and tasting earlobes of despair," Hawke adds. "You're right, I'm feeling  _so_  close to you right now."

Tallis laughs. "So, it is true what they say about you."

"Oh, Maker," Aveline sighs.

"Oh, it is," Isabela drawls. "But, I imagine they don't say much about how she likes rogues?  _Rivaini_  rogues, especially."

"Ooh, are you two going to fight this out? Might I suggest you do this in small, white blouses? Oh, oh, and in the mud?" Hawke asks, eyes bright.

"I fear for you sometimes," Aveline mutters. "I really do."

"Fear for them," Hawke replies, "I'm not the one wrestling in the mud."

" _Anyway,_ " Tallis tries to bring the conversation to far less…sexual places. "You've been so reasonable about everything, and…I'm hoping that hasn't changed."

"Not terribly, no."

"I need to stop Salit. But I need your help to do so."

"I'm sure you've gathered from our time together that sometimes, you might need to use small words to explain things to me," Hawke says lightly. "What exactly is so bad about Salit's plan?"

"Not only Qunari are affected. Anyone who lives on Qunari lands…even those who fled from the Qunari of any race. That's why Salit cannot hand this information over to Orlais."

Hawke sighs. "You…realize this seems like just another convenient excuse for me to help you. And not a very good one, considering my track record with the Qunari."

Shaking her head, Tallis huffs. "I know it seems like that, but trust me…were it that easy."

"What aren't you telling me? I thought we were past all the secret-y parts of our budding friendship."

Tallis takes a deep breath. "I'm not here as per a Qunari directive." Here, Tallis begins to pace. "Salit…was deemed Tal-Vashoth, a decision that they said didn't require any further intervention or investigation. I didn't… _couldn_ _'_ _t_ …agree. So…I had to try."

"So…you're Tal-Vashoth too?"

"No," Tallis stresses. "I just…wasn't exactly ordered by the Ben-Hassrath  _not_  to be here is all." She laughs a little bitterly. "I um…was hoping to get back into their good graces, but I don't think this'll help much."

Hawke's head tilts. "What did you do to be in their not-so-good graces?"

Tallis grimaces, shifts her weight on her feet, and feels three pairs of eyes staring at her. She thinks of memories past, none of them good, and crosses her arms. "It…isn't easy being an elf in the Qun," is the simplest way to put it. "You're not born into it like they are. I've struggled, time and again, to find that peace, that certainty that they all seem to have. I just…always fall short."

Finally, someone other than Hawke speaks up. "Couldn't that be considered some sort of sign?" Isabela asks, the soft tones of her voice taking any sarcasm out of her question; the question, however, oft asked by Tallis herself and others in the Qun, raises her hackles.

"I used to be like you, you know," Tallis says, voice a little bitter. "I know your type. If you don't care about anything, then nothing can hurt you." She paces more. "But it doesn't work that way, and it isn't that simple. There was a hole inside me, one not easily filled."

"Now  _that_ _'_ _s_  too easy," Isabela says, familiar teasing lilt back in her voice. Hawke coughs, looking uncomfortable.

"Not everything should be that easy," Tallis practically snaps.

"She says to the woman who epitomizes the word," Aveline retorts.

"Don't you get tired of it?" asks Tallis, genuinely interested in how someone like Isabela, so light and jovial, can seem so grounded and secure at the same time. "Don't you dream of a life that has meaning, has purpose?"

Isabela blinks just once. "I…have a purpose. I have Hawke."

The Champion of Kirkwall says nothing, but the way she looks at Isabela…it's more than enough explanation.

"Lucky you," the elf whispers. "But you, Hawke," she says, pinning the Champion with a stare. "Have you ever been a part of something bigger than just yourself?"

The gray eyes go impossibly somber, and for a moment, Hawke looks more haunted than Tallis thought she could. "Perhaps," is all she'll allow, but the heaviness in her voice tells more than necessary.

"Then you understand. Help me, Hawke. Help me stop this before it goes too far."

"What exactly is your plan?"

"I figured we go back, have tea with the Duke until we're best friends again, and then when he isn't looking, you slap a bag over his head and we drag him off to Antiva."

"Antiva? You cruel woman."

"Or," Tallis offers seriously, "we could figure out when Salit should be arriving and stop him in his tracks."

Hawke looks contemplative for a moment. "A less fun plan, but probably more feasible. And why exactly, should I help you after all you've done?"

"Because…" Tallis swipes a hand quickly over Hawke's face, holding her thumb between her fist. "I've got your nose?"

Hawke just sighs. "Well, in that case, this is biologically necessary. Lead on."

"Really?" Tallis and Aveline ask simultaneously.

"Hawke, are you sure about this?" asks the guard captain.

"Of course not," Hawke says brightly. "But you know I could never turn down a rogue with pretty eyes," she grins, laughing when Isabela shoves at her a bit. "Question is, Tallis, are  _you_ sure?"

Tallis sneaks a peek at Isabela, who is watching Hawke while she isn't looking. "Some things are worth dying for," she says softly.

"I agree," Hawke says, eyes flicking back towards the pirate for a split second.

Behind her, incredibly enough, Isabela actually blushes.

.

.

.

It's only after much fighting and bloodshed (which, is expected but no less welcome) does everything come to a close. Well, everything except…

"So…does this mean there really isn't a jewel?" Isabela asks, put out.

"Here," Tallis says, tossing a bright, ruby-red jewel at Hawke. The Champion catches it easily, ooh-ing at how it sparkles in the sunlight before graciously giving it to Isabela without another word. "This was meant to be the Heart of the Many."

"It really  _is_  shiny," Isabela says in awe.

Tallis laughs. "You know, Hawke…I really do appreciate everything you've done for me. I mean it."

"Is that so?" Hawke drawls, gray eyes glittering. "You know, I've been told once that a kiss is a good way of showing gratitude."

"Hey," Isabela interrupts. "That's only because  _I_  let  _you_  choose where I could plant it!"

Hawke chuckles. "And my, aren't I good at making choices?"

"Hmm," Isabela fakes pondering that. "I suppose so."

"You know, I can honestly say I'm jealous of you," Tallis admits to Isabela, who's got this shit-eating grin on her face.

"Well," Isabela winks, "You know, there's more than enough of Hawke to go around…"

"Are you saying I'm fat?" Hawke asks, petulant.

"No, sweet thing, I'm saying, all she has to do is ask nicely."

Hawke hums. "In that case…"

"Maker, get a room!" Aveline grouses, throwing her hands up and stalking off towards where they've made camp.

"All three of us, big girl? Best suggestion I've heard all day," Isabela grins, following after the red-haired woman, presumably to harass her some more.

"So…" Tallis coughs, inching towards Hawke with reddened cheeks. "When she says 'ask nicely'...does she mean like, a written request, or a formal statement with 'pretty please'…?'"

Hawke laughs a little. "I'm not sure. Last time she had me 'asking nicely', it meant begging on hands and knees. Literally. And ah…" Hawke actually turns a little red here, sparking Tallis's interest further. "She, um…she usually requests that you, quote, 'use your mouth but not your words'."

" _Oh_. _"_ Tallis blushes harder than she ever thought possible. "Well, then."

"You up for it?" Hawke asks, and although her tone is teasing, her grin is suggestive and wolfish.

Her time with Hawke must've proved more educational than she thought, because suddenly Tallis knows exactly how to play this game.

"I don't know," Tallis murmurs, delighting in the way Hawke's eyes seem to haze over a bit as she edges closer. "Why don't you…ask me nicely?"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please don't hesitate to let me know what you think.


End file.
